


S.C.P.arker

by Temmy_Silver



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, SCP Foundation, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Whump, Poor Peter Parker, Post-Spider-Man: Far From Home, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Whump, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:41:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27570952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Temmy_Silver/pseuds/Temmy_Silver
Summary: Tony Stark's successfully rid the world of Thanos and his army. Everyone who perished in the snap has been brought back, and the world's been saved from peril. Everything should be dandy. So why has he woken up in a building that doesn't legally exist with a siren warning him to evacuate?With the help of Dr. Simon Glass, Tony learns what exactly has happened in the time since the battle with Thanos, and how much danger an escaped SCP is putting the world in.
Relationships: Dr. Simon Glass/Agent Diogenes, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 19
Kudos: 41





	1. Monsters New and Old

**Author's Note:**

> I'm delving into the world of the MCU to bring you the crossover you never asked for. If you don't know what the SCP Foundation is, you can browse the wiki here: http://www.scpwiki.com/scp-series
> 
> I recommend reading a few articles, if not to understand this fic better than to check out a really cool website. The high-ranking SCPs are interesting and personally find the low-ranking ones to be just as good. Happy reading!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm delving into the world of the MCU to bring you the crossover you never asked for. If you don't know what the SCP Foundation is, you can browse the wiki here: http://www.scpwiki.com/scp-series
> 
> I recommend reading a few articles, if not to understand this fic better than to check out a really cool website. The high-ranking SCPs are interesting and I personally find the low-ranking ones to be just as good. Happy reading!

Tony Stark let his eyes remain closed for a moment before he gave in to true wakefulness. After successfully ridding the world of Thanos and his army, he felt he deserved another minute of surprisingly painless slumber before the inevitable barrage of doctors and all things sterile.

The moment ended as a tickle in his throat became a rather impressive coughing fit in the span of a second, causing him to fall off the— 

Now that was _not_ a hospital bed.

The large onyx rectangle Tony had apparently been lying on shimmered in the low light, flashing rainbows off jagged edges. He reached out a hand to touch the side and the thing receded from his fingertips.

“What the hell…” Tony said, his voice hoarse from coughing and disuse. His surroundings didn’t make much more sense than the strange block. The walls were gray, and the space lacked the machines and windows of a hospital room. Two cameras attached to opposite sides of the ceiling were pointed at him, both with little red lights to show they were recording. The only door was made of thick metal and required a keycard that Tony didn’t have. Though he was stripped of his Iron Man armor, the clothes he’d been wearing underneath the suit during the battle with Thanos were relatively intact, if a bit sweaty.

“Hey!” Tony yelled as best he could, standing up and waving his arms at one of the cameras. “I’m in here!”

For over ten minutes Tony tried to get the attention of whoever was watching, his voice gaining clarity over time, but no one came. Finally he gave up and went to the card reader beside the door. If he could hack into SHIELD files while inside one of their helicarriers without anyone noticing, he could get this door to open. Within five minutes, he did. The door opened with a satisfying _whoosh_ and Tony stepped out into the hallway.

Flashing red lights lined the walls, and a sudden automated female voice came over a P.A. system.

_“Containment breach in wing 6-F. All personnel are to evacuate immediately. Repeat, there has been a containment breach in wing 6-F. All personnel are to evacuate.”_

Tony briefly wondered if he had been the one to cause the alarm. Then he saw a man in a white lab coat standing in the middle of the hallway and any thought he could spare on the alarm was removed.

The man’s shirt looked like it had been torn open by a wild animal, though his injury did not bleed. Instead, three great gashes were swollen purple-black, and the color traced his veins all the way through his exposed neck and hands. Sweating and shaking, the man gave a slight grin and nod. He said, “Mr. Stark. Good to see you,” and promptly collapsed.

Tony rushed to him, turning the man over and lifting his head. “Hey, hey! Stay with me!” he said. “What happened? Where are we?”

The man grasped at Tony’s shirt. “Listen to me very carefully,” he choked out. “My name is Simon Glass, I’m the head of Psychology for the S.C.P. Foundation. Will have been, pretty soon. I’m a goner, Stark, but you may still be able to do something.”

With obvious difficulty, Glass reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a keycard. “I have level five security clearance; this will get you into any room in this building,” he flipped the card over to show four codes scribbled onto the back, “and give you access to almost all documents and files.

“Get—” Glass grimaced and Tony saw the purple-black veins creep up onto his face. Panting, Glass continued, “Get to my office. On the terminal, look up any information you can on SCP-6723, 6536, and 6537. Read fast, there may not be much time. Then find the kid and do whatever it takes to help him. If he dies, it’s over.

“And for the love of god, _do not_ let The Executioner catch you.”

Glass pushed his keycard against Tony’s chest and Tony, while using one hand to keep Glass’s in place, said, “What kid? Glass! Who is The Executioner? _Glass!_ ”

Glass shook as the purple-black veins encroached on and finally overtook the whites of his eyes. “You’ll know it when you see it.”

With a final shudder and a mutter of, “I’m sorry, Pat,” Dr. Simon Glass went limp in Tony’s arms.

 _“Containment breach in wing 6-F,”_ the automated voice repeated.

“What the _hell,_ ” Tony whispered once again. As the P.A. system urged all personnel to evacuate, he set Glass down and closed the former Head Psychologist’s eyes.

Tony didn’t understand the first thing about what was going on. What this “S.C.P. Foundation” was or how he got here was a mystery to him, but a man had apparently just spent his dying moments getting to the room Tony had been kept in in a last-ditch effort to save… The Foundation? The World?

This “kid?”

With no other immediate option, Tony stood, intent on following Glass’s directions. Before he left, he caught a glimpse of the plaque next to the room he’d been in.

_SCP-6288_

***

A map was easy enough to find. It was located in a hub-like room, showing off all the hallways, floors, bells, and whistles this place had to offer.

If this map was telling the truth, then the Avengers Complex was only a fifth of the Foundation’s size, if that. Tony was on the third floor, and needed to get to the tenth for the offices.

Hoping this was all some bizarre fever dream, Tony proceeded to an elevator. He had to use Glass’s keycard to call it, but come it did, encased in a glass tube rather than the wall.

_“Containment breach in wing 6-F.”_ Tony watched the elevator come down. _“All personnel are to evacuate immediately.”_ He felt a sudden rush of vertigo and pressed his thumb into one temple, his index finger the other, then brought them together to rub over his eyes. _“Repeat, there has been a containment breach in wing 6-F.”_ The elevator doors dinged open. _“All personnel are to evacuate.”_

 _Whoosh._ “Hold the door, please.”

Tony had one foot in the elevator, and he felt his whole body grow numb at those words. He’d anticipated running into someone, a staff member who had failed to adhere to the automated voice’s warning or an authority whose job it was to stop whatever was threatening the facility, but not someone so calm.

Certainly not a dead man.

He didn’t want to, but Tony looked anyway; he had to make sure it wasn’t a trick of his mind. There in the doorway, hands clasped together and a smile on his face, was Obadiah Stane.

“What’s the matter, Tony?” Stane asked. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost!” He chuckled.

“You,” Tony said, shutting his eyes as tight as he could, “are dead. You’ve _been_ dead.”

“That’s right, Tony,” Stane said. Tony opened his eyes to see the man getting closer, reaching out, not a single wrinkle to be found on his business suit. “And now you’re coming with me.”

At the center of the palm on the hand Stane was holding out, Tony noticed a bulge, like a pizza crust bubble on his skin, colored purple-black.

_For the love of god,_ do not _let The Executioner catch you!_

Tony practically leapt into the elevator, hitting the button for the 10th floor, then the one for “close doors” in a repeated frenzy. The doors did close, but not before The Executioner got half his forearm through them. The doors themselves were also glass, and Tony got the full view of “Obadiah’s” features as they twisted into an unrecognizable purple-black mass.

“TONY!” the thing shrieked, trying to fit its other hand through. “OPEN THIS DOOR!”

Tony switched from tapping the “close doors” button to his housing unit. “C’mon, c’mon!” he yelled, desperately willing the Iron Man armor to manifest.

 _“Containment breach in wing 6-F.”_ The Executioner managed to force his arm in up to the elbow. _“All personnel are to evacuate immediately.”_ It reached toward Tony’s face and the genius saw the rotting face of Obadiah Stane grin. _“Repeat, there has been a containment breach in wing 6-F. All personnel are to evacuate.”_

At last, the nanotech armor expanded from the arc reactor, encasing Tony’s body. As soon as the suit closed around his arms, Tony grabbed The Executioner’s wrist with one hand and used the repulsor on the other to shoot off the thing’s arm. It let out a cry and Tony watched the thing with Stane’s face fall to the floor as the elevator doors clicked shut.

It was still writhing as the elevator rose, and what was once its arm turned to purple-black mush at Tony’s feet. When the thing was out of sight, Tony slumped into a corner of the elevator. He’d fought much bigger, badder beings for longer periods of time, but he nevertheless felt exhausted.

He closed his eyes, and another familiar voice came to him, this one not so haunting.

_“Trouble, boss?”_

“FRIDAY!” Tony yelled, his eyes snapping back open. “Where have you been?”

_“Apologies, I had some problems rebooting. I should be fully-functioning now.”_

“You have no idea how happy I am to hear you,” Tony said, sighing.

_“Given the comparative state of your vitals, I can take a guess.”_

The elevator reached the tenth floor and the doors dinged open again. “FRIDAY, do me a favor, would you?” Tony said, stepping out into a similar-looking hub room as the sixth floor.

_“Of course, boss.”_

“Look up all the information you can get on the S.C.P. Foundation.”

_“The Sweet Cream Palette Foundation is the head of a popular ice cream chain located in—”_

“No, not that one. S.C.P. stands for…” Tony looked up at three enormous metal words hung up on the main wall of the room, “Secure, Contain, Protect.”

_“…No such organization exists, boss.”_

“What? Of course it does, we’re standing in it,” Tony said, making his way toward the door that led to the offices.

 _“There are zero public records of the S.C.P. Foundation worldwide,”_ FRIDAY said, showing him her results in a graphic inside his helmet.

“Well, find the not public records. I’m flying blind here, FRI.”

_“Understood.”_

Tony’s armor receded as he stepped into the hallway of offices. These doors were all made of standard wood but still needed a keycard to open. Tony slid Glass’s into his and went into the dead man’s office. He took a seat at the terminal and logged on with the username and three passwords Glass had given him.

 _Welcome back, Dr. Glass,_ the terminal briefly read before flicking back to the screen the Doctor had been on before coming to Tony’s room. Only a chat box was open, and it didn’t take Tony long to catch up on the conversation.

*10 minute timer activated. Previous dialogue deleted*

 **Agent Diogenes:** Fine. You better be with it when I get there.

 **You:** Call it “him.” Less confusion will go a long way.

*Agent Diogenes has logged off*

 **You:** I love you, Pat.

It only raised more questions than answers, but the mystery as to who “Pat” was was at least somewhat solved. A framed photograph on Glass’s desk of him smiling with another individual also provided some insight.

“FRIDAY, how we doing?” Tony asked as he moved the mouse over to an icon labeled “SCP List.”

_“Nothing yet, boss,”_ FRIDAY said through Tony’s wrist strap watch. _“This organization is very thorough.”_

“So they are,” Tony agreed as he opened up the browser. According to the Foundation, there were hundreds of SCPs: SCP-173 “The Sculpture,” SCP-682 “Hard-to-Destroy Reptile,” SCP-999 “The Tickle Monster.”

Tony scrolled and scrolled. Scratch hundreds, there were apparently _thousands_ of these things, all with their dedicated page, some with additional files. Finally, Tony went back to the top of the site where a search bar lay, typed in “SCP-6723,” but hovered over the “Enter” key.

SCP-6288. That’s what the plaque had read next to his room. What did that page have to say?

In the end, Tony decided to save it for last. There were monsters in this building, deadly ones, and at least one of them had gotten loose. Glass had told him what to look for in order to get him up to speed, so he’d start with those files. He hit the “Enter” key, and what came up brought back that numb feeling in his body.

SCP-6723 “Spider-Man”

Tony blinked, but the text didn’t change. Spider-Man? Not _his_ Spider-Man, surely?

_If the kid dies, it’s over._

There was one way to find out. With a shaking hand, Tony clicked on the link.


	2. Beyond No Hope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what's Peter been up to during his time at the Foundation? Let's find out! Happy reading!

At this point all Peter wanted was to go outside. The desire to see May, Ned, and MJ still lingered, along with the longing for his own bed and May’s poor attempts at cooking, but they’d officially been overshadowed by this one basic human need.

Not even to go swinging. He was pretty sure his time as Spider-Man was over; that ship had sailed once _The Daily Bugle_ had aired Mysterio’s video. If Peter had been offered the chance to sit in the sun for five minutes on the condition that every security guard in this place had to have their gun trained on him, including that one doctor that had it out for him, he would take it in an instant.

But no such offer had been made, and Peter got the distinct feeling that none was coming. These people wouldn’t so much call him by his name, just “6723” or “SCP-6723.” He was an it to them, trapped inside a metal box (not vibranium, but similarly unbreakable even with his strength) that somehow heated up when he touched it so that he couldn’t climb the walls.

They’d been on him not fifteen minutes after he dropped MJ off and the world had seen that video. Hundreds of them with their guns pointed at him, claiming he was under arrest and being taken to the Raft. He’d gone willingly, not wanting to make the situation worse or get any civilians killed. But the Raft was not where they had gone, and any hopes he’d had of contacting Happy for help in clearing things up were dashed.

They called this place the S.C.P. Foundation, and though Peter had never heard of it before, he no longer believed he was ever getting out of it. Besides the inescapable walls, they kept constant tabs on him, 24/7 surveillance. Despite the constant attention, it was a drastic understatement to say he was lonely.

That wasn’t to say he’d been kept in solitary confinement. They did weekly “checkups” on him, they were the only way he could measure time, and the experiments came even more frequently. Poking and cutting at his forearms to see if he produced his webbing from his body, piling weights on top of him until he reached his breaking point, injecting him with various spider venoms and recording his reactions. The researchers rotated in and out, but a man named Dr. White remained constant. He oversaw all the experiments, the checkups, he even occasionally brought Peter his meals.

Dr. White did not like Peter Parker.

Peter had once begged Dr. White to tell him why, why was he doing this? The man had been unfazed by Peter’s cries, keeping his glare steady and his teeth gritted as he said that Peter was a monster, a murderer. There was no convincing him or anyone else that Beck had faked the video. Peter was going to be stuck here until he died, alone.

_“SCP-6723, stand in the center of the room with your arms in the air and face away from the door,”_ came Dr. White’s voice from some unseen speaker. _“Our scientists are coming in for your checkup.”_

_Three months,_ Peter thought as he got up from his stiff bed and stood at the center of the room. He’d been here for three months.

***

**Item #:** SCP-6723

**Object Class:** Euclid

**Special Containment Procedures:** SCP-6723 is housed in a 15x20 foot room made of two-foot thick adamantium. Touch-activated heaters that can reach up to 100 degrees celsius within three seconds are built into the containment chamber’s walls and ceiling to negate SCP-6723’s wall-climbing abilities. SCP-6723 is to be placed in adamantium handcuffs and escorted by no fewer than seven security personnel when being moved to and from rooms for experimentation purposes. 

**Description:** SCP-6723 (formerly known as Peter Parker, a.k.a. Spider-Man) is a caucasian male with brown hair and eyes. It is slightly below average in height and has a slight but muscular build. 

Despite appearing as a normal teenage human, SCP-6723’s DNA has been modified to partially represent that of a spider (a mutation which SCP-6723 claims it developed at the age of 14 after being bitten by a spider during a school field trip at Oscorp. Research into this incident is ongoing.) Abilities from this modification include:

*Heightened sense of sight and hearing

*Advanced strength and agility

~~*Web production from arms~~

*A sixth sense which activates when danger is imminent

*A sticky grip which allows for wall climbing

*Advanced healing

SCP-6723 also displays a voracious appetite, requiring three times the recommended caloric intake for a human of its BMI.

**Addendum 6723-1: Recovery Log:** The S.C.P. Foundation had known of the hero known as Spider-Man long before SCP-6723’s containment, but it had been deemed a character for more public authorities such as the Avengers and the remaining members of S.H.I.E.L.D. to handle and/or work with. However, when the video exposing SCP-6723 as the one responsible for the mass drone attack on London, which resulted in [REDACTED] casualties, the O5 Council ruled it a threat and called for its capture.

Agents posing as a SWAT team managed to secure SCP-6723 without incident. With the help of Agents [REDACTED] and [REDACTED], who work undercover at the Raft prison facility, the public believes SCP-6723 was taken to said facility and died in an escape attempt.

Given its abilities, level of intelligence, and clear murderous intentions, a request to upgrade SCP-6723’s status to Keter has been made.

_Note: Request denied. We understand that your sister was among the victims of the London drone massacre, Dr. White, but if you can’t put your personal feelings behind you, you’ll be taken off supervision for SCP-6723 and placed on Keter duty to see what a real SCP deserving that sort of security is like._

_—O5 Command_

**Test 6723-1**

**Subject:** SCP-6723

**Test Purpose:** To find subject’s maximum level of strength.

**Procedure:** While subject held a position with its legs shoulder width apart and its arms above its head, a weighted block (3 tons) was lowered onto it.

**Results:** Subject managed to hold up 1.3 tons before being forced to its knees.

**Test 6723-2**

**Subject:** SCP-6723

**Test Purpose:** To see if subject displays immunity to spider venom.

**Procedure:** Venom was taken from the _loxosceles reclusa, phoneutria fera, latrodectus mactans, latrodectus geometricus,_ and _latrodectus bishopi_ spiders and injected into the subject one at a time. Appropriate antidotes and medical staff were available during testing.

**Results:** [DATA EXPUNGED] Subject has little to no immunity to spider venom.

**Test 6723-3**

**Subject:** SCP-6723

**Test Purpose:** To figure out how subject produces its webbing.

**Procedure:** [DATA EXPUNGED]

**Results:** Subject does not produce its own webbing.

_Note: SCP-6723 has been largely cooperative with Foundation personnel; no one thought to_ ask _it how its webs were made?!_

_—O5-3_

**Test 6723-4**

**Subject:** SCP-6723

**Test Purpose:** To test the extent of subject’s reflexes and agility.

**Procedure:** Rubber ball projectiles were shot at the subject, gaining speed over time.

**Results:** Subject was able to dodge all of the projectiles.

_Note: SCP-6723 attributed this feat partially to its “spider-sense.” Testing to explore this ability is warranted._

**Test 6723-5**

**Test Purpose:** To test the reliability of SCP-6723’s “spider sense.”

**Procedure:** Five identical, nondescript boxes were placed in front of the subject. One box was empty, while the other four held one instance of _leiurus quinquestriatus_ (the Deathstalker Scorpion). Subject was then asked to open one of the boxes.

**Results:** Subject picked the empty box. The experiment was conducted a total of 30 times with the same results.

_Note: In three of these experiments, all five boxes held scorpions. Subject refused to open a box during these instances._

***

Tony stared at the document. There was an uncensored version he could have accessed, but found he didn’t want to read it. Mass drone attack? “Clear murderous intentions?” The kid was a lot of things, but a murderer certainly wasn’t one of them. You’d have to be pretty damn evil to really get on Peter’s bad side, and even then he wouldn’t do anything drastic. Just how long had Tony been asleep?

“Hey, FRI?” he asked his A.I.

_“Still working, boss.”_

“Not that. I need you to look something up for me,” he said, reading those three words over and over again. _Clear murderous intentions._

_“Of course.”_

“Search ‘Spider-Man London drone attack,’ please.”

FRIDAY transferred her findings to Dr. Glass’s computer screen. _“It doesn’t make sense, boss, but everything says that Mr. Parker launched a drone attack on London using your technology.”_

Tony couldn’t believe it, he _refused_ to. Peter would never do something like this, but all the articles said the same thing: _Spider-Man Responsible for London Drone Attack; Spider-Man: Troubled Teen or Plain Psycho?; Beloved Hero Mysterio Murdered by Spider-Man._

Mysterio?

Tony clicked on the oldest, most popular video on the subject.

… 

He sighed in mild relief. For an organization that could apparently hide itself from the entire world, the S.C.P. Foundation wasn’t too skilled at spotting doctored videos. Tony had recognized Beck immediately, the psychopath. Interdimensional superhero, what a joke! He wasn’t exactly thrilled that Peter had been exposed and framed, not to mention the aftermath from it, but at least he knew the kid wasn’t some cold-blooded killer.

His questions were far from answered, though. One more had popped up while watching the video: Why had Peter been using EDITH? Tony doubted Beck would have bothered faking the A.I.’s involvement.

With no other immediate options, Tony switched back to the SCP List and looked up the next article:

SCP-6536 “The Judge”

***

Peter woke up to the _whoosh_ of the door opening. No voice had told him to get up, and the lightbulbs embedded into the ceiling were still dark. Something wasn’t right; the Foundation was very particular about procedure.

Peter sat up and saw Dr. White standing alone in the doorway, holding the special handcuffs they often used to bind Peter from his wrists to just below the elbows. 

“Get up,” Dr. White growled. Peter knew better than to argue despite the odd circumstances.

As soon as his feet touched the ground, however, his spider-sense cried out, _Don’t go over there!_

His spider-sense had been activated before in the presence of Foundation researchers, but it was usually before they gave him some sedative or put him in one of their experimentation rooms. This was different. Dr. White had blatant malicious intentions.

“Um, aren’t there supposed to be guards?” Peter asked, backing up. “You’re supposed to have—”

Dr. White pulled out one of the Foundation’s special pistols and pointed it at Peter. “We’ll be just fine. Now get over here.”

Peter only hesitated because of the absolute panic level his spider-sense was set at. It was always better if you just did what these people told you to do, but he was certain that Dr. White meant to hurt him, personally.

Peter could take down Dr. White easily, gun or no gun, but the room was monitored and lots more people with lots more guns would come running at the first sign that something was off.

The Foundation didn’t see him as a person, but in a way, he was their property. Most of them didn’t want him dead, including Dr. White’s bosses. He didn’t have a clue what or who O5 Command was, but he heard the awe and the fear in people’s voices whenever they were talked about. Peter took what comfort he could from this thought and stepped forward, letting Dr. White cuff him.

The doctor led Peter down hallways the boy hadn’t been to before, passing containment rooms of other SCPs. Eventually they got to a stairway, which they began to descend.

“Where are we going?” Peter asked against his better judgement. Dr. White answered by pressing the pistol into the small of Peter’s back.

They came out of the stairwell two floors down. Rounding a corner, Peter and Dr. White came face to face with a security guard. She was the first person they had run into on their excursion.

“White, what are you doing here?” she asked. “Didn’t you get the memo?”

Once again, Dr. White said nothing. The security guard looked from Peter to the doctor and back again, giving an exasperated sigh. “What are you doing with 6723?”

“O5 has given the order for neutralization,” White answered.

“Neutralization?!” Peter said as his spider-sense gave him the feeling of I-told-you-so. He tried to face Dr. White more directly, raising his cuffed hands. “What do you mean neutra—”

Dr. White pointed his pistol at Peter’s leg and fired. The boy didn’t feel anything for one, two whole seconds. Then he collapsed to the ground with a cry, his left shin shattered.

“Jesus, now look what you did!” the security guard said to Dr. White as if scolding a child who had spilled their milk on the carpet.

“O5 gave the order!” White yelled, teeth bared and eyes wide. “You want to disobey O5, Lisa?” 

“Me? Certainly not,” the security guard, Lisa, said. “Do you?”

White stayed silent for a moment. Peter barely paid attention, moaning and trying to put pressure on the wound with his cuffed hands.

Finally the doctor asked, “Are you going to help me?”

“How can I help you when I was never here?” Lisa asked, passing by them. “I hope when I see you next, White, it’s not in a D-class uniform!” she called over her shoulder.

Once she was out of sight, Dr. White grabbed Peter by the back of his neck and dragged him down the halls.

“Please!” Peter begged, crying. “Please, don’t!”

“Shut up, you pathetic creature!” White growled at him. They stopped outside a door with a plaque that read _SCP-6536._

“Please, I didn’t launch the drones!” Peter yelled. His spider-sense felt no danger behind the door, but he was sure it would be coming once he went inside. “I didn’t do anything!”

“Tell it to The Judge,” White said. With that, he opened the door, threw Peter inside, and shut it.

Peter laid on the cold floor moaning, his leg burning and throbbing. A rumble like that of a waking lion made him raise his head, and Peter screamed at the sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me and my cliffhangers. They always pop up in one chapter or another. We'll settle it next week with the upload of chapter three, so stay tuned!


	3. No Jury Needed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We delve into the SCP lore! Happy reading!

Peter tried his best to scramble away from the thing before him, but there was only so much distance he could cover with a bullet in his leg. The creature looked as if the Ursa Major had fallen out of the sky and taken up residence on Earth. It was certainly bear-shaped, but it stood at least thirty feet tall, and its body seemed to be made of a black-green ink. As it turned its head towards Peter, at least twenty glowing green eyes blinked and stared down at him. Growls that could make entire cities tremble emanated from it.

It took one heaving step towards Peter, another. Peter shrank away from it as best he could. “Please, I didn’t do anything,” he said, too quiet for anyone to actually hear him. “Please, I—”

The black-green ink bear lowered its head and took what Peter thought was a sniff. Suddenly the growls ceased and the bear was shrinking, rapidly cutting its size and morphing into something two-legged, something feminine.

All the eyes except two disappeared, and the oddly colored liquid of its body shifted into the texture and palette of a clothed human. It—she?—kneeled in front of Peter and gently brushed his hair from his face, shushing him.

If Dr. White had put Peter in here so this SCP could kill him, he was either in for a great shock or playing a cruel joke. The bear-turned-human didn’t just resemble a woman, she was an exact replica of someone Peter hadn’t seen in a long time.

“M-May?” he croaked out. She smiled and cupped his face, using her thumbs to wipe away stray tears. Everything about her was exactly as Peter remembered, every mole and stray hair present. She even wore her old glasses.

What lay behind those glasses was the only difference between this SCP’s appearance and his aunt’s. While May’s irises were a dark brown, this version’s were a deep green flecked with black.

The SCP mimicking his aunt moved her hands down to Peter’s cuffs. She furrowed her brows in concentration, and a moment later, the cuffs fell away with two clicks. She tossed them away with a grunt of disgust and moved on to Peter’s bullet wound. He grimaced at the odd feeling but felt almost no pain as the bullet and all accompanying shrapnel was pulled back out of the hole by the sheer will of the SCP. The remains of the bullet came to rest in her palm and she tossed them over her shoulder. Peter stared at his wound in amazement; all blood flow had ceased, and he could feel the bone and flesh healing itself at an impossibly quick rate, even by his standards.

He looked back up at the woman posing as his aunt. “I-I didn’t kill them,” he stammered. “You believe me?”

She gave a sad smile and nodded. “Mm-hmm.”

SCP or no SCP, she was the first living thing in the Foundation that had shown Peter the slightest bit of kindness. She could’ve looked like a giant centipede for all he cared, at her confirmation of his innocence, he buried his face into the crook of her neck and sobbed.

“Thank you,” he said, his arms wrapped around her.

She carded one hand through his hair and rubbed his back with the other, humming a gentle tune.

***

**Item #:** SCP-6536

**Object Class:** ~~Euclid~~ Keter

**Special Containment Procedures:** SCP-6536 is to be kept in a 500x100 foot steel room. An electric charge of 15 volts over a period of five minutes every three hours is to be conducted throughout the room in order to keep SCP-6536 relatively sedated. Two D-class personnel are to be “fed” to SCP-6536 once a month. In order to avoid a companion event, these D-class must be convicted murderers, with no margin for error within their cases.

**Description:** When not in a companion state, SCP-6536 resembles an _ursus americanus_ , or the American Black Bear. It stands at 9.2 meters in height when on all fours and 21.3 meters on its hind legs. Its body has been described as “shimmering” or “like ink” by observers, appearing mostly black in color but flashing green at the right angles. Ten sets of glowing green eyes are spread out over SCP-6536’s upper face/forehead area.

SCP-6536 was recovered from a village in [REDACTED], Colorado, where it was being worshipped as a god by the residents. Known locally as “The Judge,” SCP-6536 remains indifferent to human beings until it comes into contact with someone who has murdered at least one other human being out of malice. Experiments have revealed that those who have killed out of self-defense or for the protection of others are not subject to SCP-6536’s punishments. Punishments have included dismemberment, disembowelment, [REDACTED], and consumption, always leading to the subject’s demise.

A companion event occurs when SCP-6536 comes into contact with an individual who has been falsely accused of murder (hereby referred to as SCP-6536-1). After initial contact, SCP-6536 develops an immediate fondness for SCP-6536-1, as well as a protective nature. It will then take the physical form of someone SCP-6536-1 is personally attached to and holds in high regard. Unless no such figure exists in SCP-6536-1’s life, SCP-6536 will always change into a female. SCP-6536 is incapable of speech, but while presenting as a human it can create sounds that mimic certain human noises. These include:

*Screaming

*Crying

*Sighing

*Cooing

*Humming

*Shushing

*Laughing

**Addendum 6536-1: Recovery Log:** SCP-6536 came to the Foundation’s attention after the end of a companion event led to the destruction of the village it was being worshipped at, as well as [REDACTED] miles of the surrounding area. An extraction team was sent and recovered SCP-6536 without incident. At the time, the exact nature of the attack was not known. It was only after an interview with Ms. Roberta Reyland, the sole survivor of the incident, that SCP-6536’s motivations were revealed.

**Addendum 6536-01:** Transcript Excerpt of Interview with Ms. Reyland, conducted by Doctor Bowers.

**Dr. Bowers:** You’re saying SCP-6536 destroyed your home out of a tantrum?

**Ms. Reyland:** She was angry. It could have been much worse if The Judge had known [SCP-6536-1] for longer. Doreen was a fool, and she got everybody killed. Except me, of course. Old heads like me know how to lay low during storms.

**Dr. Bowers:** Who is Doreen?

**Ms. Reyland:** She was a mother, once upon a time. Doreen’s little boy had been found by the river with his throat cut. She was devastated, you can imagine. We were all convinced that [SCP-6536-1] had done it, so some of the men tied him up, took him into the mountains, and put him before The Judge.

**Dr. Bowers:** And how did SCP-6536 react?

**Ms. Reyland:** According to the men, she shrank right down into a copy of Lydia, [SCP-6536-1’s] big sister. Except for those eyes. She was hugging and comforting him, and his bindings just fell away when she tapped on them. All the bruises he’d gotten from struggling healed right up, too. She sort of glared at the men, but none of them made a move to hurt [SCP-6535-1], so she didn’t attack. Not then. She was attached to him now, you see, and she would have done anything to make sure he was safe. She came back with the rest of them into town. The Judge never makes a mistake, so we all knew that [SCP-6536-1] was innocent, but Doreen couldn’t accept that.

Doreen left and came back three weeks later with The Executioner, shouting about how justice needed to be served. The Judge is strong, but The Executioner is fast, and he has a way of getting in people’s heads so that they can’t help. She put up a good fight, but he won out. Once [SCP-6536-1] was dead, she threw her fit and that was the end of us.

**Dr. Bowers:** When you say “The Executioner,” are you referring to SCP-6537?

**Ms. Reyland:** If that’s what you want to call him. He’s the other one you took. People from my village thought they were gods because anything that big and strange must be divine, right? But they’re just children. Powerful, yes, but children all the same. They’re siblings, you see. The big sister has her naive sense of justice and loves to play mother for baby birds with broken wings. The little brother is a menace who likes to break his sister’s toys. She throws a fit afterward and everyone pays the price. It’s happened before, but we weren’t ready for it this time.

_Note: Ms. Reynolds was given class-A amnestic at the end of the interview and released without incident. She had explained previous instances of companion events ending with similar results, and research shows these instances to be factual, usually blamed on freak natural disasters. It seems the longer SCP-6536 remains in a companion state, the more destruction it causes after SCP-6536-1’s demise. If an incident were to last longer than [REDACTED] months, SCP-6536 may have the potential to create an XK-class end of the world scenario. In light of this information, a request to upgrade SCP-6536 to Keter is pending._

_Note: Request approved._

_—O5-2_

**Addendum 6536-2: Companion Event 6723:** On [REDACTED], 2023, former Foundation member Doctor Manfred White managed to sneak SCP-6723 out of its containment cell and into SCP-6536’s in an attempt to get revenge for his sister, who was thought to be one of Spider-Man’s victims during the London drone attack. Instead of punishing SCP-6723, the contact initiated a companion event, causing SCP-6723 to become the newest instance of SCP-6536-1. Security footage then shows Dr. White entering the containment unit and pointing an unissued security gun at SCP-6723, to which SCP-6536 [DATA EXPUNGED]. Dr. White is currently being held in the medical bay for his injuries. If he recovers, he will be reassigned as D-8667091 and scheduled for monthly termination.

Despite SCP-6723’s innocence, releasing it is impossible as long as SCP-6536 remains its companion. All efforts to prevent a post-companion event are to be taken. No threats of violence are to be made toward SCP-6723 and all experimentation is to cease. Under no circumstances is SCP-6537 to come into contact with SCP-6723 or 6536.

***

**Item #:** SCP-6537

**Object Class:** Euclid

**Special Containment Procedures:** SCP-6537 is to be kept in a 300x80 foot steel room. An electric charge of 35 volts over a period of fifteen minutes every two hours is to be conducted throughout the room in order to keep SCP-6537 relatively sedated. Five D-class personnel are to be “fed” to SCP-6537 twice a month.

**Description:** When not in a predatory state, SCP-6537’s appearance shares a great resemblance to SCP-6536. It stands 6.1 meters on all fours and 8.3 meters on its hind legs. Its coloring is mostly black, with a deep purple flashing at certain angles. Nine sets of glowing purple eyes are spread out over SCP-6537’s upper face/forehead area.

To date, SCP-6537 has never been directly observed in its non-predatory state. When a human (hereby referred to as the subject) approaches, SCP-6537 transforms into an exact physical replica of a person who has caused the subject significant trauma in the past, identifiable only by a purplish-black “welt” in the middle of each of SCP-6537’s palms. Unless no such figure exists in the subject’s life, SCP-6537 will always transform into a male. If multiple subjects are present, SCP-6537 will appear as different people at the same time. SCP-6537 will focus on one subject at a time, rendering all others immobile while it “consumes” the chosen subject by [DATA EXPUNGED] before moving on.

SCP-6537 is able to be distracted. If one subject is being consumed or hunted and another sees SCP-6537 without it noticing, the second subject will suffer no ill-effects, and only report seeing the same person SCP-6537 is mimicking for the former subject. Indirect observation also has no effect on SCP-6537’s appearance, and is the only way to see its true form. When watching an attack through video or recording, observers will report seeing SCP-6537 as the person it is mimicking for the subject, or as one of the figures if there are multiple subjects.

SCP-6537 is able to produce human speech while in a predatory state, but often takes on a garbled or distorted quality. SCP-6537’s physical form can also become morphed while hunting, gaining claws, pointed teeth, and/or distorted features. Anyone attacked by SCP-6537 that escapes consumption expires within thirty minutes.

**Addendum-6537-1:** Recovery Log: SCP-6537 was taken without incident from what was once [REDACTED], Colorado on the same day SCP-6536 was recovered. It is generally agreed that the only reason there were no casualties is because SCP-6537 was apparently taking a nap in the aftermath of SCP-6536’s destruction.

***

A message popped up in the chat box just as Tony was about to go through the uncensored versions of the documents. He pulled up the window.

*10 minute timer activated. Previous dialogue deleted*

**Agent Diogenes:** I’m almost there. Did you get SCP-6288-1?

**You:** Speaking, I think.

**Agent Diogenes:** What?

**You:** This is Tony Stark, you may have heard of me. I’m pretty confused, but I think you were expecting me to be. A whole bunch of crazy shit I can’t remember has happened since Thanos was officially banished from existence, so either I’m having one hell of a fever dream or you’ve got a lot of explaining to do. I don’t know who you guys are, but I do know you apparently kidnapped my spider and house some very strange bears.

**You:** I’m sorry, Glass is dead.

It took a moment for the next message to pop up.

**Agent Diogenes:** Read up on SCP-6288. I’ll be there in five minutes.

*Agent Diogenes has logged off*

Tony sighed and closed the tab. Moving the cursor back to the search bar, he looked up the final document he would read: SCP-6288 “Resurrection Onyx.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter wasn't as foreboding as the previous ones, but shit's about to go _down._ Stay tuned to find out the mystery of SCP-6288 and how Tony wound up inside the Foundation!


	4. Stolen Faces

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is fanfiction. You guys know I don't claim any of the characters in this thing, but I just wanted to make this clear about the specific character of Agent Diogenes. If you go to the Agent Diogenes profile on the SCP wiki (http://www.scpwiki.com/agent-diogenes-personnel-file) you'll see an "author" tag at the bottom. I am not this author. I did not help create Agent Diogenes or any of the SCPs the actual author has written. I just chose to include my take on this character because I thought they were cool and I saw a little text box of interaction between them and Dr. Glass while researching the latter character.
> 
> With that out of the way, let's get into it. Happy reading!

Peter ate his chicken salad lunch (the food had improved greatly since he became friends with SCP-6536) and watched the cosmic bear that looked like his aunt as she laid her hands flat against the walls of Peter’s containment chamber. The built-in heaters made the walls sizzle with the contact, and the activity would have bothered Peter if it weren’t for the fact that his new friend’s hands were fine when she pulled them away. Perhaps a bit red, as if she had given a few over-enthusiastic high fives, but fine. She giggled as the marks faded away and went right back to putting her hands against the wall.

“Hey, um, May?” Peter asked, setting his plate down.

The Judge looked at him with wide green eyes. “Mmm?”

“Look, I— I know you’re not really my aunt, and I don’t want to call you by your number or job or whatever, but it’s kind of weird that you look just like her. Is there a way you could like,” Peter gestured vaguely to her face, “change? Just a little?”

The Judge spun where she sat to face Peter fully, squinting at him and scratching her chin. After a moment of deliberation, her eyes grew wide and she smiled. She started to stand and morph, and the transformation slowed her rise, but she was fully-formed in her new look by the time she stood tall.

Peter’s mouth dropped open at the spitting image of MJ. The Judge stuck out one heel, bent the other knee, and added some jazz hands in a ta-da gesture.

“No!” Peter shouted, blushing furiously and backing up on his bed. “That’s not what I meant, this is much worse!”

The Judge looked hurt, and the fact that that hurt was on MJ’s face didn’t help. “Look, I— I’m sorry, it’s just— Maybe try again?”

Not-MJ bit her lip and looked down, shifting her weight.

“Please?” Peter added. “I don’t think my room is big enough for you to fit in your bear form, but is there any way for you to just look like… you?”

The Judge cocked her head and pressed her tongue against the side of her mouth. Then she shrugged and gave a sigh through her teeth. Squeezing her eyes shut and clenching her fists, she began to change one last time, shape still humanoid but features and colors disappearing. The inkiness of her body returned, a black mass in the shape of a girl roughly Peter’s height with a bob of a haircut that fell just below her chin. Deep green lines crossed her body and tinted her hair, her eyes opened as glowing, rounded-off rhombuses.

“Wow,” Peter managed to say. 

The Judge seemed to take a deep breath, though she had no mouth or nose to speak of, and took a running start at Peter. 

“Woah, woah!” Peter yelled, leaning back to flatten himself against his bed. He watched as she jumped from the foot of his bed straight over him and landed on the back wall, clinging to it as he had clung to so many other walls. Once again, the strange metal fizzled at her touch, but The Judge didn’t mind.

“Oh. OK, I think I get it,” Peter said, sitting back up and turning to face her. “Karen?”

The Judge—Karen’s—eyes crinkled as if she were smiling and she giggled, giving a thumbs-up.

***

Doctor Simon Glass sat at his desk, reviewing the latest footage of SCP-6536 and 6723. He found their relationship fascinating, though it was bound to end in chaos. From what the Foundation could find, not a single instance of SCP-6536-1 managed to die of natural causes, and The Judge’s method of mourning was deadly. Each day that she and the spider-kid spent together increased the inevitable radius of destruction. But what could be done? Trying to separate them was a suicidal task, and as far as they were concerned, there was no way to neutralize The Executioner.

There was talk that the O5 Council was discussing evacuating the site and killing the kid remotely in order to end this companion event and try to minimize SCP-6536’s subsequent path. Most of the employees brushed off the idea as ludicrous, but Doctor Glass knew that the Council had stooped to much lower measures in the past.

If he could show the Council a new use for the two SCPs, or even just one of them, such a decision may be put off or cast aside completely. He had sent an idea, but getting any sort of request approved by O5 was a long and often fruitless process. Doctor Glass bit his lip and was about to check his email for the millionth time when a knock at his door broke his concentration.

“Come in,” he called.

Agent Pat Diogenes opened the door, holding up a jam-packed manilla folder. “Delivery from Dr. Bright.” They walked over and tossed the folder onto Simon’s desk.

“Thank you very much, Agent Diogenes,” Simon said, smiling.

“Sir,” they said, turning to walk back out of the room.

“Ah, Agent, wait a moment!” Simon said. Agent Diogenes looked over their shoulder.

“Um, would you— How do you feel about—” Simon looked into Agent Diogenes’s eyes and saw a level of stress and tiredness that wasn’t usually there. “Are you doing alright, Agent?”

Agent Diogenes stuck out their bottom lip and blew loose bangs out of their face. “That obvious, huh? Or maybe I shouldn’t expect less from the head of Psychology.”

“W-would you care to talk about it?” Simon gave a nervous chuckle. “That is my job, after all.”

Agent Diogenes shrugged and took a seat in the chair across from Simon’s desk. “Not much to talk about, really. Bright tricked me into touching SCP-113 again.”

“Ah, I see. I thought your eyebrows seemed a bit more…” Simon gestured to his brow, “defined.”

Agent Diogenes huffed and looked to the ceiling. “I really fucking hate that creep.” Their eyes flicked back down to Simon’s. “You won’t tell anyone I said that, will you?”

Simon made a motion as if zipping his lips shut, then opened them back up to swallow the key. Agent Diogenes gave a half-smile.

“Thanks. Last thing I need is for him to hear I’ve been talking shit and arrange an ‘accident’ so that he can turn me into his next body.” Their bitter demeanor returned. “It’s just, what does he expect at this point? I’ve held 113 enough times by now that it barely does anything anymore. Who knows what the fuck my chromosomes are? I don’t know, and I don’t care. Neither should he.”

Agent Diogenes sighed and raised their eyebrows. “So there’s my two cents. Do I pass your psych evaluation, Doc?”

Simon chuckled. “I assure you you were never under any scrutiny, Pat.”

Agent Diogenes squinted at the use of their first name but smiled. “Cool. Anything else?”

Simon took a deep breath and glanced at his email. Still nothing from O5. It was now or never. “Actually, I, um, I was wondering what you thought about, ah, Italian?”

Agent Diogenes’s smile dropped to leave just the squint.

“With, um, me? On Friday? Maybe?” Simon’s voice creeped up in pitch with each question. Three ticks of the clock on his wall marked an eternity of silence between them.

At last, Agent Diogenes shrugged. “Eh, what the hell? I can do Italian. Seven work for you?”

“I— Yes! That works perfectly!”

“Cool,” Pat said again, rising from their chair. “I’ll see you then.”

“W-wonderful, yes! See you then!” Simon called after Pat as they left. Once they had, Simon clapped his hands together once and pumped his fist in the air. His celebration was interrupted by a _ding_ on his computer.

His breath hitched as he read the new email in his inbox.

**To:** O5 Command

**From:** Dr. Glass

**Subject:** Experimentation Request

To the O5 Council,

I understand the recent unprecedented relationship between SCP-6536 and 6723 has posed a serious future problem for the Foundation. I would like to offer a suggestion and possible solution lying in further cross-SCP experimentation. Perhaps 6723 was only partly involved in the London drone attack, innocent enough to escape 6536’s wrath but not enough to save him from guilt. I suggest bringing 6723 into contact with SCP-6288. If the contact produces any results, 6536 may change her mind about 6723’s innocence and terminate the companion event herself, and we can avoid the aftermath. At the very least, we will be able to find out more about SCP-6723.

Awaiting your approval.

Sincerely,

Doctor Simon Glass

Head of Psychology

**To:** Dr. Glass

**From:** O5 Command

**Subject: Re:** Experimentation Request

Request approved.

—O5-7 

***

Peter was teaching bear-Karen to play “A Sailor Went to Sea” (mostly because they had nothing better to do, partly because they were pretty damn good at it) when the familiar _whoosh_ of his door opening made him break concentration.

Peter looked up and Karen turned around to see a man in a lab coat standing in the doorway, waving away a couple guards that stood behind him. The man entered and the door _whooshed_ shut behind him. Peter had the urge to stand and so he did.

The man smiled. “Hello there, Peter. My name is Doctor Glass, but you can call me Simon if you’d like. I’m the head of Psychology for the S.C.P. Foundation.”

“H-hi,” Peter said, smoothing the front of the crisp white shorts they made him wear. “I’m Peter. Peter Parker.”

Dr. Glass chuckled. There was a warmth to it that made Peter relax a bit. “Yes, I’m aware of your name, son,” Dr. Glass said. He looked down to where Karen still sat. “I’m not sure who to call this, though! This is the first time that The Judge has only taken a semi-human form.”

“Oh, this is, uh, Karen,” Peter said, touching Karen’s shoulder. She stood up at the touch. “I guess she only looks this way because she doesn’t technically, um, exist? The real Karen is an A.I. in my suit.”

“How fascinating! Lovely to meet you, Karen,” Dr. Glass said. Karen seemed to give him the side-eye but eventually nodded her head in approval.

Dr. Glass stepped further into the room. “Peter, I’d like to discuss something with you. Would you like to take a walk with me? Of course, Karen can come too.”

“Um…” Peter shifted on his feet. “The last time one of the doctors here took a walk with me I got shot in the leg.”

Dr. Glass gave a sad smile. “I understand. Though I assure you I am unarmed,” he said, showing off the inside of his coat as proof, “I’d be happy to explain in here.”

***

**Item #:** SCP-6288

**Object Class:** Safe

**Special Containment Procedures:** SCP-6288 is kept in a standard containment chamber. It is placed on top of a 3x13x5 foot pedestal made of an unknown, non-anomalous metal. Any instances of SCP-6288-1 are to be monitored by at least two security personnel.

**Description:** According to chemical analysis, SCP-6288 is a slab of onyx, about one foot in height, 12 feet in length, and four feet in width. Its bottom and top surfaces are perfectly smooth, while the edges are slightly jagged and have a rainbow glint in direct light.

If someone who ~~is responsible~~ feels at least partially responsible for another’s death (hereby referred to as the subject) makes direct skin contact with the top surface of the slab, SCP-6288 will enter an active state. Over a three hour period, SCP-6288’s top and interior will turn to liquid and, through an unknown process, create an instance of SCP-6288-1. When fully formed, SCP-6288-1 will lie on top of the now semi-solid surface of SCP-6288 for approximately five minutes before waking.

SCP-6288-1 is a perfect clone of whomever the subject feels guilt over, and resembles the departed approximately 10 hours before they died. These clones have a full and accurate memory of the deceased’s life, retaining personality and physical/vocal likeness. Clothing, accessories, and any other items the person was carrying before death will also be present and identical, though some items such as watches, hearing aids, and any smart devices may take additional time to function.

***

“So all I have to do is touch it?” Peter asked, eyeing the strange-looking slab.

Dr. Glass nodded. “That’s all, and you won’t feel a thing. It’s possible nothing will happen at all, but if it starts turning into a liquid, just step away.”

“Turning into _liquid?_ ” Peter asked, staring at him.

Dr. Glass laughed. “Peter, can you honestly say that rock turning into liquid would be the strangest thing you’ve seen here?”

Peter glanced at Karen, who was doing a sort of dance for one of the cameras in the room. “Fair enough,” he said, and approached the stone.

He laid one hand flat on its surface as Dr. Glass had asked him to. It was cold, but otherwise unremarkable. Seconds went by and nothing happened. Peter was about to ask Dr. Glass if he should be doing something else when his fingers suddenly dipped and sunk into the onyx slab.

“Woah!” he yelled, stepping back and shaking his hand to rid it of any droplets. He heard Dr. Glass gasp and saw Karen turn to stare at the commotion. “Is-is this good?” he asked. “Dr. Glass?”

“I-I don’t know, Peter,” Dr. Glass said. “I really don’t know.”

He put a hand on Peter’s shoulder and started to lead the boy out of the room, away from the now churning container. “Let’s go, Pete. We’ll need to wait for a while.”

Peter let himself be led back out into the hallway. Karen jogged over and put her hand on Peter’s shoulder as they walked beside Dr. Glass, who looked shaken.

To Peter’s surprise, Dr. Glass led the two of them outside, where they were left to wait in a rather beautiful lounge area. Peter watched an unmarked jet lift off and disappear into the sky. Unsurprisingly, a multitude of guards were standing both close by and far away (not to mention how many more may have been hidden), armed with guns and what looked like stun batons. With nothing else to do, Karen and Peter observed the scenery and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

“Do you think,” Peter whispered to Karen, “I did something wrong?”

Karen patted Peter’s knee but made no other gesture or noise.

Both their heads popped up as Dr. Glass finally came back, hands in his pockets and mouth parted. He adjusted his glasses, gave a long sigh, and said, “Peter, do you…? I mean— Would you come with me, please?”

“Am I in trouble?” Peter asked. He felt Karen’s grip on his knee tighten.

“No, Pete, you’re not,” Dr. Glass said. “My colleagues and I are just a little confused, that’s all. Please, come with me.”

Peter stood uneasily, linking his hand with Karen’s. Dr. Glass seemed nice enough, and his spider-sense gave off no warning, but Karen was growling as she had when they had first met, and that made his anxiety persist the whole walk back down to the SCP-6288 containment chamber. He could feel the stares of the security guards that lined the walls, but he couldn’t quite tell if the accusation in their glares was real or imagined.

Dr. Glass scanned his keycard for the door and the three of them stepped in. What lay inside made Peter’s jaw drop and his mind stop working.

“Kid! Finally, someone who’ll actually answer some questions. How long have I been out?”

“M-m-” Peter stammered. This had to be some trick, some illusion from the onyx. He looked back at Dr. Glass, but he was also staring at the person sitting on the slab. Peter turned back around. “Mr. Stark?”

The genius billionaire playboy philanthropist smiled wanly. “Yeah, Pete. I must have been asleep for a while, huh? You’ve grown a bit.”

Tony glanced at Karen, who was standing behind Peter. “And made a new friend? What planet is this one from?”

Peter dropped Karen’s hand and ran faster than he ever had before, knocking Tony backwards with the force of his embrace.

“Woah, kid! Calm down, it’s OK, I’m OK now,” Tony said, righting them both and holding the boy.

“I’m sorry!” Peter sobbed, unaware that he was most certainly crushing Tony. “I’m s-so sorry! I should’ve been bet-better, I’m s-s-sorry!”

Tony, confused, did his best to comfort the boy. Nobody saw Dr. Glass put a shaking hand over his mouth and slowly rub it down his face.

***

Though instances of SCP-6288-1 retain memories of dying, they will always wake up convinced they were saved through medical help even if the cause of death was something conventionally fatal (i.e. getting crushed, beheaded, etc.). Clones will be generally convinced that they are the original person, but it is not impossible to convince them of reality.

After a period of time lasting anywhere from 3 to 75 hours, SCP-6288-1 will enter a degenerative state, slowly gaining the wounds, injuries, and/or afflictions that caused the original death. This state is impossible to slow down, prevent, or reverse, and will ultimately lead to SCP-6288-1’s demise. Three hours before this degenerative state begins, SCP-6288 will enter its active state, creating a new instance of SCP-6288-1 that will be lying on top of the stone by the time the previous instance expires.

***

For hours Peter had been talking with Tony, explaining everything that had happened since his mentor had died and all he knew about the Foundation. There had been promises of walking out of this place and for the world to know that Quentin Beck was no hero. The talk of returning home, to going back to what the two of them considered normal life, made Peter feel a sense of relief he didn’t think was possible.

When the stone started to churn liquid again, neither of them knew what it meant, and any guards or scientists they asked told them it was normal, nothing to worry about.

It grew considerably harder to not worry when Tony’s right arm started to flake as if he had the world’s worst case of eczema and had exposed the rash to an open flame.

When the injury spread up Tony’s neck and face, causing him to collapse, Peter had a full-blown freak out. He screamed at the guards to get Dr. Glass, to which they left but didn’t come back. Tony’s scarring got worse and worse and Peter called out to whoever may be watching from the cameras, “ _Please,_ someone help! Can’t you see he’s— he’s—”

_Dying._

But he couldn’t be, not after he had just come back, right? He _couldn’t_ be.

The second Tony stopped breathing, Karen shook Peter’s shoulder, pointing to the onyx slab. Over his shoulder, Peter saw the prone body of Mr. Stark, free of the horrible scars. He looked down at the dead body in his arms and back to the one taking steady breaths.

_Whoosh._ “…Pete? You weren’t supposed to still be here, I—”

Peter didn’t turn. “What is this?”

“Peter—”

“What the _fuck_ is this?!” Peter yelled, facing Dr. Glass. The sense of joy and relief he’d had at seeing Tony’s face before felt far away now, replaced by a mix of confusion, sadness, and anger. Karen growled beside him. “Don’t try to trick me; I’m sick of tricks!”

Dr. Glass raised his hands. “No tricks, Pete, I just need you to—”

Peter’s spider-sense went off, but before he could do anything about it himself, Karen pushed him out of the way. At least ten guards flooded the room, attacking Karen with cattle prods which they jammed relentlessly into her skin. She laid on the floor, crying with disturbingly human sounds.

Just before the guards turned their prods on Peter, he heard a tired voice behind him:

“Kid?”

***

The only way to “reset” this resurrection cycle is to set fire to SCP-6288-1 after they are fully formed and before the instance wakes up. This does not seem to hurt SCP-6288-1, and they will remain asleep throughout the incineration process. SCP-6288 will then remain inert until the next person with a guilty conscience makes contact with its surface.

**Addendum 6288-2: Experimentation with 6723:** When SCP-6723 was brought into contact with SCP-6288, an instance of SCP-6288-1 resembling the late Tony Stark was created. This instance lasted a total of five hours, and it’s believed that SCP-6723 experienced severe trauma witnessing the regeneration process. SCP-6723 was later told of SCP-6288’s nature, and it believes that the reset process has already taken place. However, experimentation is ongoing.

In the month since the SCP-6723 made contact, a total of [REDACTED] instances of SCP-6288-1 have occurred. As per the first instance, most have resembled Tony Stark, except for five, which have taken the form of [REDACTED]. Why SCP-6723 feels guilt over these deaths is unclear and, by order of O5 Command, not to be explored.

***

Simon sat at his desk, massaging his sinuses as he stared at the mountain of work ahead of him when the door to his office banged open.

“Who’s the other one?” Agent Diogenes asked, glaring down at him.

“Pat, I—”

“Don’t play games with me, Simon, who’s the other instance of SCP-6288-1?” they said, each word sharp. “I don’t have a high enough security clearance to see it on the file, but I know you know, and you’re going to tell me!”

Knowing that telling them would be divulging sensitive information, he sighed. “A fellow named Benjamin Parker.”

“His _dad?_ ”

“Uncle, actually.”

Agent Diogenes put their hands to their eyes and pushed their head back to face the ceiling, giving a vocal sigh through their nose. “Since when have you ever been in favor of cross-SCP experimentation?” they asked, spreading their arms wide. “What could have possibly made you think this was a good idea?!”

Simon thought of all the reasons he had had, so organized and strong at the time. “I don’t remember,” he said.

Agent Diogenes set their jaw and sighed, then looked down. “Why didn’t you tell me you didn’t reset 6288?”

Simon fiddled with his fingers. “It-it didn’t seem important—”

“ _Important?_ Simon, you're the head of Psychology in an organization filled with narcissistic mad scientists, everything you do is important!” Agent Diogenes put their hands on Simon’s desk, leaning forward. “It’s decisions like this that make people wonder if you’ll ever join your uncle in the Chaos Insurgency. Figure this shit out or stay out of it. The Executioner’s getting antsy.”

Simon tried calling after them, but Pat Diogenes left the office with a _slam_ of the door. He sighed and put his face in his hands.

Resetting 6288. He would’ve already done so if it were up to him, but that decision had been yanked from him by O5. He knew how active SCP-6537 had been lately, but what could he do about that? It had been over a month since the companion event Dr. White had caused started. At this point if Peter were to die, The Judge would take out the entire state and then some.

He sat and pondered his regrets until the lights went out in his office and the red alarm light came on. His blood turned cold as the building’s P.A. system announced: _“Containment breach in wing 6-F. All personnel are to evacuate immediately. Repeat, there has been a containment breach in wing 6-F. All personnel are to evacuate.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The angst! It's everywhere! But we've finally caught up to the present and all that's left is the big showdown and some good old Irondad and Spiderson, featuring a lot more angst and a good bit of whump. Stay tuned!


	5. Cycles Broken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's the final chapter, and it's time for the final showdown and the Irondad and Spiderson content we've been waiting for. Let's do this. Happy reading!

Agent Diogenes stepped out of the elevator, adrenaline pumping from avoiding SCP-6537 but uninjured. In other words, they were doing a _lot_ better than Simon.

Pat bit their lip as they made their way to the offices, pushing away those thoughts. Grief would come later, or better yet, not at all. They were an agent to the S.C.P. Foundation, damnit. The job came first, and emotions weren’t part of the gig. When you worked in a place where death was so common, you’d go mad if you let that sort of thinking consume you.

Though, Pat had always held the belief that Foundation members shouldn’t cast away their feelings permanently. Otherwise, how much better were they compared to the things they guarded?

Pat stood outside Simon’s office, allowed themself one deep breath, and stepped inside.

Stark looked worse than Pat felt. He seemed sick, with paled skin and bags under tired eyes that stared at the computer screen, propping up his forehead with one veined hand. He glanced up as Pat came in.

“Agent Diogenes?” he asked.

Pat nodded. “Mr. Stark.”

Stark gave a single, bitter chuckle. “Sure. Let’s go with that.”

“I take it you read the SCP-6288 file?” Pat said.

Stark inhaled through his nose and gestured to the screen. “Just looking over the uncensored version. Here I was wondering how things got so fucked up since I fell asleep and it turns out I didn’t. _I_ didn’t even technically die, but I will in a couple days at max.”

Pat looked him over. “Has your A.I. system booted up yet? FRIDAY?”

Amazingly, Stark’s skin grew paler. “About 15 minutes after I woke up.”

“Then you’re one of the quick ones,” Pat said. “You probably have more along the lines of a couple hours.”

“You’re not the comforting type, are you?”

“I’m sorry,” Pat said honestly.

Stark sighed and leaned back in the chair. “So what do you need me to do?”

“I beg your pardon?”

Stark spread out his arms, palms in the air. “Glass said I’d be able to do something to protect Peter. From what I gather, you were in on the plan, so tell me,” he shrugged and put his hands back in his lap, “what do you need me to do?”

Pat swallowed. “Frankly, we were hoping you could tell us. You’re still Tony Stark, in a way, and Tony Stark was a brilliant man. If anyone besides O5 can figure out how to stop The Executioner, it’s you. And you’re the only one that SCP-67—er, Peter—will trust enough to listen to at this point, except for The Judge.”

“Find Peter and kill a cosmic nightmare bear,” Stark said. “That actually doesn’t sound like the hardest thing I’ve—he—no, I’ve ever had to do. You know where Peter is now?”

“No, but I can tell you where he isn't,” Pat said. “Scooch.”

Stark slid the chair over to give Pat access to the computer, and a few clicks later, they pulled up an interactive map of the site. “All these areas were blocked off to minimize the amount of personnel 6537 could come into contact with,” they said, highlighting several floors and certain major spaces. “Peter and The Judge left their containment chamber shortly after the initial breach. Given their location at the time, they must be hiding out in one of these remaining areas.”

“How long has the breach been going on?” Stark asked.

Pat puffed out some air through the side of their mouth as they thought. “An hour, maybe? O5 must be really fucking busy.”

Stark gave a shaky sigh. “If The Executioner’s been waltzing around for that long, how do you know Peter’s not already dead?”

Pat gave a sharp laugh. “Trust me, Stark, The Judge would’ve killed us all already if that were the case.”

Stark nodded and sighed again, setting his jaw. “Right. FRIDAY, copy this map, store it for later. I’ll access the cameras with Glass’s information to find Pete.”

The A.I. gave a little, _“Yes, boss,”_ as affirmation and Pat watched over Stark’s shoulder as he got to work. Once the live camera feed was pulled up, he looked to Pat.

“I, ah, don’t really need a bodyguard. If you wanted to heed the P.A.’s warning and evacuate, you—”

“Oh no, you’re stuck with me, Stark,” Pat said. “Wherever you’re going, I’m going. No way I’m not seeing this through to the end.”

Stark nodded. “Good,” he said, and went back to work.

***

Peter and Karen roamed the halls of the facility as slowly and silently as possible, not wanting to attract the attention of any guards or… others. They walked hand in hand, ducking into spare rooms and hiding when they had to, trying to get as far away from wing 6-F as possible.

Avoidance had worked pretty well so far, but Peter knew it wasn’t a permanent solution. In order to survive this, they would either have to escape or fight, possibly both. However, neither of them had a clue where they were going, and weapons had so far been unavailable.

Peter had never been told about The Executioner’s existence, nor the cyclical relationship it and Karen had, but Peter knew something was wrong. He could _feel_ something after him, and it was much worse than a vengeful doctor with a pistol or a bunch of guards with cattle prods.

No, Peter didn’t really know about The Executioner, but that didn’t stop him from being _terrified_ of it.

So, with the utmost trepidation, he and Karen snuck down hallway after hallway, avoiding any doors with an “SCP” label next to them. Peter felt they were going in circles until they finally came across a hallway that looked slightly different than the rest.

“Karen,” Peter whispered, “I think the door leading outside is nearby. If we can get there, maybe we can make a break for it.”

Karen blinked at him and nodded. They began to head to where they thought the outdoor lounge area had been, but a wave of Peter’s spider-sense going on full alert stopped them. 

Adrenaline already pumping through him, Peter scanned the area, but there was nowhere to hide. In a last-ditch effort, Peter pulled Karen to the wall and the two of them climbed to hang on top of the ceiling. Karen started to growl and Peter put a hand on her shoulder, shaking his head. She narrowed her eyes but nodded. “Shhh,” she whispered. In the distance, Peter heard a door open and a set of heavy footsteps coming closer and closer.

Peter shook and tried to flatten himself against the ceiling. His spider-sense had never been this bad when he wasn’t actively fighting. He tried to steady his breathing and keep it as quiet as possible, but with his heart pumping in his ears, every noise seemed amplified. All he could do was wait as the footsteps drew ever nearer.

He held his breath as the footsteps stopped at the end of the hall. “Now Peter, what are you doing up there?” came a voice that made Peter’s heart sink and his stomach cramp. “You’re not trying to hide from your old friend, are you?”

Still shaking, Peter looked below at the figure. “No,” he moaned. “No, you’re _dead._ ”

Quentin Beck, dressed in his Mysterio regalia sans helmet, smiled at Peter. “Yes, Pete, I am. But you keep me alive, in a way.”

The grin grew much more sadistic in quality and Beck seemed to pulse with a strange purple energy. “Wouldn’t it be best if I was laid to rest for good?”

Peter would’ve stayed frozen if it weren’t for Karen. She shoved him aside, almost knocking him off the ceiling, and jumped down to charge at Beck, screaming. He watched as some of her bear-like features manifested. She grew to match Mysterio’s height, the tips of her fingers sharpened into claw-like points, and the space where her mouth should have been elongated into a snout filled with ink teeth. 

She fought with the man who looked like Mysterio while he himself started to twist and change, features becoming distorted and purple-black veins starting to crawl over him. He managed to punch her once, twice, almost a third time before she blocked and kicked him in the abdomen, sending him sprawling.

Karen turned to Peter and roared. Though she spoke no words, he got her message just fine: _RUN!_

Peter obliged, dropping from the ceiling and sprinting in the opposite direction. There had to be an armory around here, right? If he could just find a weapon, he could help Karen fight off the monster chasing after him.

He raced down hall after hall but saw no door that led somewhere helpful. His sprint ended as he crashed face-first into a metal door. Peter groaned on the floor, covering his now broken nose. He’d pressed the “door open” panel all the doors in this place had beside them, what had happened?

 _“Area currently under lockdown,”_ a female voice that matched the P.A. system’s said from the digital panel. _“Please scan a level four or higher security key to enter.”_

“No,” Peter said, almost begging the machine. He hit the button again and the little voice repeated its message. “No, no, no, c’mon!” No matter how many times he scanned his hand, the door wouldn’t open, oblivious to his situation.

The _whoosh_ of a door behind him ended his fruitless button-mashing. Peter went stock-still, then dared to ask, “Karen?” though he knew it was not.

“Let’s settle this, Peter,” came Beck’s mocking, distorted voice. _“Mono a mono.”_

Though Peter was terrified, he turned to face the monster. “Where’s Karen?” he asked in a low tone.

“She doesn’t matter anymore,” the Beck-thing said. “It’s just you and me now, kiddo.”

Looking at the thing hurt Peter’s head, and he was slow on his reaction time. He managed to land a few ineffective punches but could do nothing as the purple-black Beck gripped his throat and pinned him against the wall.

“See, Pete? Isn’t this easier?” Beck hissed. “You shouldn't have fought in the first place. Just let go.”

Peter could feel the psychic effect the Beck-thing’s words had, filling his mind with thoughts that agreed with the monster, trying to get him to lose hope and give up. Yet despite the words, despite the last four months of hell at the Foundation, despite the fact that everyone he loved probably thought he was dead, Peter didn’t want to die. He fought as hard and as long as he could against the creature, but the black dots at the corners of his vision only grew bigger, and his arms and legs became limp.

 _Karen,_ he thought in the final moments before he slipped into unconsciousness. _Help me._

***

“You ready?” Tony asked.

“As I’ll ever be,” Agent Diogenes said. Their tone feigned confidence, but Tony heard the nervousness behind it.

“You have to hang on tight,” he reminded.

“Stark, would you just go?!” Agent Diogenes said. “We’re all on the clock here.”

“Fair point,” he said, and the Iron Man helmet formed around his head to join the rest of the armor. Agent Diogenes clung to his back and he pulled up the map of the building on his visual.

Peter and The Judge were a few floors down, and it would be much faster getting to them by blasting through the place than it would be taking the elevator. So, standing out in the office hall, Tony fired up his repulsors and blasted a hole through the floor, as well as the next four. He flew down the hall until he reached the door leading to the area Peter should be in. 

_“Area currently under lockdown. Please scan a level four or higher security key to enter.”_

“That was… quite the ride” Agent Diogenes said, voice cracking as they slid off Tony’s back. They smoothed back their wind-messed hair and asked, “You still got Simon’s ID?”

Tony raised his hand and fired a repulsor beam at the door, blasting it out of its metal framing. 

Agent Diogenes gave a single considerate nod. “Or that works, too.”

Tony wasn’t listening. In full view on the other side of the door was The Executioner. It was turned away, and he could see it had taken the form of that psycho faker Beck, but he no longer gave a shit about the illusion.

All he cared about was the boy whose neck The Executioner gripped in one hand. The boy that The Executioner was infecting with its purple-black poison. The boy that had been tortured in this place for four months.

Rage like he hadn’t felt in a long time (never had, in a way) boiled within him, and Tony raised both hands to blast The Executioner. It screamed as it was thrown back, landing as a mushy, purple-black mass on the floor. It wasn’t dead, but it wouldn’t be getting up soon.

Tony retracted his armor and ran to Peter, turning him over and holding him close. “Pete? C’mon, Peter, wake up.”

Peter’s eyes rolled in their sockets and he gave a slight groan, but gave no other sign of wakefulness. The Executioner’s purple-black ink traveled through Peter’s veins, creeping up towards his face and down to his heart. What had that document said? _Anyone attacked by SCP-6537 that escapes consumption expires within thirty minutes._

“No,” Tony said through gritted teeth, shaking Peter. “Kid, c’mon, you’re stronger than this, you can fight it!”

A roar interrupted his attempts at rousing Peter and he looked down the other hall to see who he assumed was The Judge. She was equipped with a snout, claws, and at least an extra foot of height that she hadn’t had when Tony had seen her on the cameras a few minutes ago. She gave another roar and charged at him, teeth bared and clawed hands raised. Tony saw Agent Diogenes reach for something in their belt but Tony beat them to it, raising the hand that didn’t cradle Peter’s head and forming a gauntlet around it. 

“Back _off!_ ” he shouted. To his surprise, The Judge stopped her charge, though she still looked ready to attack. “You want to help him, fine, we can use all the help we can get, but _I had him first._ So if you want to play guardian, you’re going to have to share.”

The Judge gave a low growl and for a moment Tony thought he may actually have to shoot her. However, she eventually morphed back into her girl-like form, losing her bear characteristics and raising her hands in a placating gesture. Tony gave her a single nod and retracted the gauntlet. The Judge glanced at Agent Diogenes, who took their hand away from whichever weapon they were about to grab and raised their hands in solidarity.

The Judge whined at the sight of Peter, and Tony let her kneel down on the other side of the boy’s body. “Can you… do anything?” he whispered to her. She narrowed her eyes at Peter’s form, then ran a hand over his face.

There was an almost inaudible _snap_ as Peter’s nose moved back into place, the flow of blood stopping itself. The poison took longer to heal, but The Judge was determined in her work. She never laid a finger on Peter’s body for this part, but she still seemed to push the purple-black liquid back through Peter’s veins until it all coagulated in Peter’s throat. She clenched both her fists until the ichor was no longer visible on the surface, then let go.

Immediately, Peter’s eyes snapped open and he erupted into a coughing fit, spraying out purple-black ink with each convulsion. Tony helped him to sit up, relief washing over him. “That’s it, kid, just get it out,” he said, patting Peter’s back. The Judge smoothed her own circles on Peter’s back, crooning as she did so.

Peter was still terribly out of it when he finally stopped. “Wha— wha hap’n?” he asked, his face in his hands. 

“Guys,” Agent Diogenes said. “I hate to break up the reunion, but we need to _move._ ”

Tony looked to the form of The Executioner, which was starting to look less like a shapeless mass and more like a vaguely human-like mass. Peter was still pale and delirious, so Tony scooped the boy up in his arms and carried him as the four of them rushed down the halls away from the beast.

“This way!” Agent Diogenes shouted, leading them to a door that gave them a reminder that the area beyond it was under lockdown. Tony opted to use Glass’s ID this time, and they slipped into a rather spacious lounge area.

Tony set Peter down on one of the couches, letting The Judge take over to work her magic on the kid’s residual ailments.

“Alright,” said Agent Diogenes, plopping down on a chair and running a hand over their forehead. “We’ve got the kid. Good. We’re currently in a place where The Executioner can’t get to us. Double good. We can’t hide out here forever and we don’t have any plan of attack or to escape. Bad, bad, and bad.”

“Jet,” Peter mumbled.

The kid still wasn’t all there, and Tony wasn’t sure he heard him right. “What was that, Pete?” he asked.

“Saw a jet… outside,” Peter said as The Judge pressed her fingers to his temples.

Tony turned back to Agent Diogenes, one eyebrow raised. “You got jets?”

They shrugged. “Usually. We can’t bank on that, though. People may have taken them all during the evacuation.

“Heading outside might not be a bad idea, though. If I can get you guys out of the building, maybe you can just fly Peter away?”

“I’m still on that timer, in case you forgot,” Tony said, “and nobody has any clue how much longer I’ve got left. I don’t really enjoy the idea of crashing out of the sky while Peter’s up there with me. Unless tech still works after an SCP-6288-1’s death?”

Agent Diogenes’s shoulders slumped and they shook their head. “No.”

Tony knocked on the table he was sitting at once. “Jets it is, then.”

Agent Diogenes squinted at him. “You’re taking your imminent demise surprisingly well.”

Tony raised his eyebrows and lowered them quickly, giving a sideways nod and a sniff. “What else am I supposed to do, curl up in a ball and feel sorry for myself? That’s not gonna help anyone, especially not him,” Tony said, nodding back towards Peter. “And if I’m going to die anyway, it might as well have been for something.”

Peter groaned and started to sit up, blinking his eyes back into focus. “Karen? What—”

Peter’s eyes locked with Tony’s.

“No,” he said, turning away, into The Judge. “You’re not real, you’re just another trick.”

Tony pursed his lips and moved to kneel next to Peter. He lifted a hand to put on the boy’s shoulder, but hesitated. “I’m real enough, kid.”

“No!” Peter shouted, pushing Tony away. “I’m not going through this again, I _can’t!_ ”

Tony glanced at The Judge, who shrugged. She ran a hand through Peter’s hair as he cried.

Tony sighed and moved back beside the kid. “Peter, I know it must be hard to see me after… the last time. But I’m not going anywhere, Pete.” Now he did put his hand on Peter’s shoulder, giving a squeeze. “Not until I get you out of here.”

It took a moment, but Peter eventually brought his face out of The Judge’s neck, turning to face Tony. They looked at each other a moment before Peter broke down again, moving this time to embrace Tony.

“I d-don’t want to w-watch you d-die again,” Peter stammered against his chest.

Tony held the boy close. “You won’t have to, Pete, I promise.”

The two remained that way for a bit, holding each other while The Judge watched in what Tony thought may have been approval. Then Agent Diogenes cleared their throat pointedly and Tony looked back to glare at them.

Agent Diogenes raised their hands. “Look, I’m sorry, but we still only have half a plan. We might not be able to avoid The Executioner for as long as we need to get to the jets, and that thing is an adaptive learner. You won’t be able to blast it to smithereens again; you’d be lucky if you managed to land a shot.”

Tony sighed and Peter lifted himself away from the hug, sniffing. “Does this thing have any weaknesses?” Tony asked. “Deterrents? Anything?”

The Judge poked Tony’s shoulder. “Zzzt,” she said.

He narrowed his eyes at her. “Was that supposed to be a suggestion?”

“The cattle prods!” Peter said. Tony moved his confused stare to him, but the boy was looking at Agent Diogenes. “Do they work on The Executioner, too?”

Agent Diogenes pulled a cattle prod from their belt. Tony assumed it was the weapon they had been going for before when The Judge had showed up. Agent Diogenes considered the stick thoughtfully. “Both The Judge and The Executioner have a certain aversion to electricity.”

“Well, great!” Tony said. “You got any more of those lying around?”

Agent Diogenes sighed through their teeth. “Even if all four of us wielded two each against The Executioner, we wouldn’t be able to take it down. It’s too strong. But…”

Tony raised his eyebrows. “‘But’?”

Agent Diogenes gripped the base of the cattle prod in one hand, smacking the other end into their open palm. “There’s a Tesla gate on the fourth floor. Cranked up to max, it might get the job done.”

Peter’s jaw dropped. “You guys just _have_ that?”

“It’s there in case a different SCP escapes,” Agent Diogenes explained. “If we do this right, we’ll actually have a fighting chance. You might not like what we have to do to get The Executioner down there, though.”

***

Peter sat in the middle of the hall, waiting. Agent Diogenes was right, he didn’t like what they needed to lure The Executioner, and neither had Karen or Mr. Stark. Granted, his job wasn’t all that hard (in theory), but his heart still pounded in his chest.

The Executioner apparently had a natural tracking ability that was currently dead-set on Peter, so all he had to do was wait on this floor as bait until the monster came. The other three were hiding in the shadows, ready to attack in case things went wrong. Mr. Stark and Agent Diogenes were equipped with cattle prods and Karen had her bear-ness at the ready. Once The Executioner showed up, Peter would run down the hall until he got to the Tesla gate, activating the machine (which Mr. Stark had tinkered with to give it some extra juice) and running through to trigger the motion sensor and have it zap The Executioner.

As he sat, Peter could only hope that The Executioner would approach from the other end of the hall so that the others could activate the machine and he wouldn’t have to face the monster again.

However, as his Parker luck would have it, the _whoosh_ indicating the creature’s arrival came from ahead of him. Peter swallowed as he watched The Executioner approach. The thing, still appearing as that distorted, purple-veined Mysterio, smiled at him. The grin was too big and filled with pointed teeth.

“Well, there you are, Pete!” The Executioner said, its voice garbled. “Where did you run off to?”

“Why don’t you follow me and find out?” Peter stood and sprinted down the hall, catching glimpses of Karen as she ran along the ceiling.

Peter rounded a corner and saw the Tesla gate. He felt The Executioner gaining on him as the gate grew closer, closer, just a little more— 

“NOW!” Peter shouted. Agent Diogenes flipped a switch and the Tesla gate hummed to life, starting to spark as Peter ran through it.

_ZZZZAAAAPPP!_

Peter threw himself to the floor as the shock filled the air. His heart still thudding, Peter distantly felt Mr. Stark turning him over and heard him calling his name. “I’m-I’m fine,” Peter said, his adrenaline crashing. “I’m—”

Peter blanched at the sight before him. The Executioner was lying on its back on the other side of the gate, but was propping itself up on its elbows and glaring purple eyes at Peter.

The Tesla gate had missed.

The Executioner roared and lunged at Peter, its passage through the Tesla gate causing the machine to crackle, but it was too fast to fire again. Mr. Stark shielded Peter and raised a gauntlet-clad arm, but The Executioner lifted the man with one arm and threw him aside like he was nothing.

“Mr. Stark!” Peter shouted as his mentor crashed into the wall. His worry soon shifted to himself as The Executioner lifted him with both hands, putting its Beck-like face uncomfortably close to Peter’s own.

Just as the thing seemed ready to take a bite out of Peter’s throat, Karen jumped on it from behind, snarling and clawing at its face. The Executioner screamed and dropped Peter, who scrambled away. He was paralyzed as he watched the two ink-creatures fight each other.

“Kid, catch!” Agent Diogenes shouted. Thanks to his reflexes, Peter managed to catch the cattle prod they threw at him before it smacked him in the head. With the other prod they were armed with, Agent Diogenes began to attack the Executioner.

Understanding the plan, Peter rose and started to jam the rod into the thing imitating Beck. Mr. Stark, recovered from his meeting with the wall, joined them, adding his two cattle prods to the mix. Karen took as much as she could, but eventually hopped off The Executioner, though she still stood battle-ready. 

The three humans drove The Executioner back towards the Tesla gate, making good progress until the creature said in a voice that no longer seemed like any human, _“Just stop. It would be so much easier for all of you if you just_ stopped! _”_

Peter could feel the psychic effects from earlier returning, and he collapsed to the floor from the headache filled with despairing whispers, followed shortly by Mr. Stark.

Agent Diogenes, however, stood their ground. “Fuck _off_ , Bright!” they shouted, jabbing once more with the cattle prod before discarding it.

Agent Diogenes moved to engage The Executioner in hand-to-hand combat, dodging, weaving, and fighting with moves to rival Natasha Romanoff. They managed to flip The Executioner onto the ground, pinning it under them. “Everyone, stay clear!” they shouted.

Peter only had a moment to wonder why before he noticed the Tesla gate starting to crackle and pop. Both The Executioner and Agent Diogenes were directly under it, and there was no way the machine was missing this time.

Peter tried to move towards them, tried to shout at Agent Diogenes to get off The Executioner and run, but his mind was still pounding and foggy. Just before the Tesla gate let off its zap, Peter saw Karen and Mr. Stark pull Agent Diogenes off The Executioner and back towards safety, all three of them collapsing on the floor.

_ZZZZAAAAPPP!_

The Executioner let out an ear-splitting scream that could be heard even over the incredible crack of the Tesla gate’s strike. The four of them watched in awe at the sight, The Executioner morphing from its Beck-like figure into something smaller, something four-legged. 

By the time the spectacle was over, The Executioner was little more than an inky, purple-black bear cub, nine sets of glowing eyes lowered into slits as it whined from the pain.

Peter gasped as the Tesla gate started to rev up another strike, but Karen moved to switch off the machine. She stared at the cub with her glowing green eyes.

“Right,” Agent Diogenes said, panting. “We should get to the jets.”

They and Mr. Stark stood, but Peter didn’t move. “Karen?” he asked. “What’s wrong?”

She glanced back at Peter, then returned her gaze to the cub. She began to change herself, morphing back into the bear she’d been when Peter had first met her, though much smaller. She only stood a few inches taller than The Executioner.

“Oh my god,” Agent Diogenes said. “The companion event is over. The Executioner lost.”

“The what event?” Peter said. He stood and went to kneel beside the cubs. Neither Agent Diogenes nor Mr. Stark stopped him.

“Pete,” Mr. Stark said. Peter looked to him. “They’re siblings. She’s not leaving him.”

Peter looked back at Karen, at The Judge. “Is that true?” he asked. “You’re not coming?”

She nuzzled the bottom of his hand, lifting it until it rested on top of her head. Peter scratched at her inky green-black fur and she gave a contented rumble, but ultimately ducked away from the touch and rested a paw against the smaller cub’s side.

Peter couldn’t help but start to cry again, though his tears fell silently. He leaned over to hug her and The Judge lifted her front paws as if returning the embrace. “I’ll never forget you,” Peter whispered to her. She hummed in agreement, nuzzling the side of his face.

He felt Mr. Stark put a hand on his shoulder. “C’mon, kid,” he said. “Let’s go home.”

***

As luck would have it, there turned out to be three small jets left over. Peter climbed aboard the one with a full tank, but Stark lingered behind with Pat.

“You’re not coming, then?” Stark asked.

“Someone needs to explain this to O5,” Pat said, leaning against the jet’s side. “They may not get the whole truth, but I’m working on that.”

Stark chuckled. “Because telling the whole truth would involve explaining why you let two SCPs take off in a company jet after the threat was over.”

Pat smirked and waved their hand. “We’ll call it even after you two helped discover how to end a companion event without The Judge decimating everything afterwards. And for you saving my life.”

“If we’re even now, then this may be awkward to ask,” Stark said. “I need a favor.”

Pat cocked an eyebrow. “What kind of favor?”

***

Peter was silent as he and Mr. Stark took off and long after they were up in the air. He stayed in the cabin, looking out the window and picking absently at the purple-black ichor that stained his clothes, while Mr. Stark operated the controls up front.

Eventually his mentor appeared in the doorway, looking tired but otherwise fine. “Pete, why don’t you come up here for a minute? I’ll show you how to fly this thing.”

“Um, are you sure?” Peter asked. “I might mess it up.”

_He didn’t want to get too close. Not again._

“You’ll be fine,” Mr. Stark said. “It’s a good life skill, c’mon.”

With no other option, Peter followed Mr. Stark up into the cockpit. When Peter just stood around, Mr. Stark gestured to the pilot seat. Reluctantly, Peter sat down.

“Right, so the first thing—” Mr. Stark started, listing off what Peter needed to do, how to stay on course, the eventual buttons and levers to push when it was time to land. Peter hated it. He hated how easy it was to slip back into this routine of getting instructions, asking questions, feeling those little beats of happiness when he did something right and Mr. Stark praised him for it.

But maybe… if they had this last little bit of time together, maybe it wasn’t so bad. Maybe they could have one last real conversation, a proper goodbye. That would be alright.

Mr. Stark clapped a calloused hand on Peter’s shoulder and started to leave the cockpit. “I’m heading to the bathroom, kid. You keep flying.”

“Got it,” Peter said. He kept his focus on the controls for a minute or two before calling back, “Maybe you have more time than we thought you did, Mr. Stark. We could try to visit Pepper and Morgan if you wanted. You want to try, Mr. Stark?

“Mr. Stark?”

***

Tony Stark let his eyes remain closed for a moment before he gave in to true wakefulness. After successfully ridding the world of Thanos and his army, he felt he deserved another minute of surprisingly painless slumber before— 

“Just relax, pal,” came a voice. “It’d be better if you slept for this.”

Ah, and there was the first of the inevitable barrage of doctors. Tony obeyed the voice as a warmth enveloped him. He didn’t know what this drug was, but it sure felt nice. He let it take over as he fell back into unconsciousness.

***

May Parker lay awake in her bed. When you worked for a hospital, you already didn’t get much sleep, but when the last person you had been living for dies, the very idea of shut-eye seems like a foreign concept. What rest she did get was fitful and unfulfilling. For four months she’d been this way, less of a person and more of a body going through the motions of being alive.

She knew she should get help, but what could anyone possibly do or say to make things better?

Her phone began to ring. She checked the ID: Happy. Some people tried to help, anyway.

“Happy, it’s three in the morning,” she said as she hit the answer button. “What’s—”

“H-hey, May,” came a quiet voice that most certainly did not belong to Happy. May sat up in bed and dug her fingernails into her palm to make sure she wasn’t dreaming.

“Yeah, I know i-it’s late,” the voice stammered. May thought the person behind it was crying. “And I kn-know you’re probably c-confused—”

A sniffle. Definitely crying. She was, too. “—but could y-you come pick me up?”

May didn’t bother giving an answer, practically flying to grab her keys and race out the door. She drove off into the early-morning New York traffic to get her nephew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, bittersweet endings. What a trip! I hope you all enjoyed reading this thing, I certainly had a blast writing it. Who knows if I'll ever write another fic for the MCU and/or the SCP Foundation? I don't have any ideas at the moment, but you never know what might pop up in the future.
> 
> For now, I'm going back to Detroit: Become Human with the Collectibles sequel I promised. I hope to see you there! Until next time, my friends!

**Author's Note:**

> And so we start another journey. This fic will be updated weekly, and we'll be getting some Peter perspective in the next chapter! 'Till next time, my friends.


End file.
